A Series of Ill-Timed Surprises
by oncomingtragedy
Summary: It had become very difficult to surprise John over the last five years. John had been unusual in his first reaction to him, but eventually he too had joined the leagues of others before him. Nonetheless, for all John's familiarity with his patterns while solving a case, Sherlock does still have a few tricks up his sleeve. AU - Merlin is the "other one" (third Holmes brother)


Written for springlockexchange challenge, originally posted on AO3 (my account by the same name).

I had quite a bit of fun with this one. I'm not used to writing/plotting for Merlin so it was a bit of a challenge as well, and I'm still not sure I really captured them at all. For that matter, Merlin and Arthur aren't prominently featured here, but I did do my best. Sherlock's voice just wasn't allowing for any interruptions.

Thank you to gwainesgirl for the prompt, and I hope this fill works for you!

Unbeta'd and not britpick'd, so all mistakes are my own. Credit to my lovely friends who encouraged me while I cursed the lengthy plot bunnies that tried to bite me all throughout plotting what you read below. They know who they are. 3

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><p>It had become very difficult to surprise John over the last five years.<p>

Sherlock had marked this progression very carefully throughout their time together as friends, partners, or what have you. The two years of missing data could have been detrimental to other cases, but even before his absence John had gradually developed a marked indifference to his deductions. Where he was once met with astonishment, the expected exasperation soon took its place.

John had been unusual in his first reaction to him, but eventually he had joined the leagues of others before him. Eras do only last so long, after all.

Nonetheless, for all John's familiarity with his patterns while solving a case, Sherlock does still have a few tricks up his sleeve.

("That was an abhorrent attempt at foreshadowing. Really, you could do better.")

John had yet to close his mouth. Tedious.

Looking over to their new companion however, Sherlock had to acknowledge that John had dealt with the shift of reality in his usual manner with the bearing of a soldier, even if the shock was still evident (expression, tense shoulders, shifting weight back and forth between feet, his unique manner of clenching and unclenching his fists, all the while maintaining a frustrating amount of military bearing that is absurdly difficult to pinpoint…).

The younger man may have once been the ("_Prattish, Sherlock. Your adventure books paint him in an awfully noble light. He was, of course, but he was still a dollop-head of the worst kind._") King of a realm and a hardened warrior accustomed to magical attacks, but that was not stopping his loss of control over his stomach now.

"You must remember your first reaction, Sherlock. You were hardly any better."

Mycroft's voice was smugly satisfied in the way that very few seemed to be able to achieve. Sherlock turned around, glaring.

"Nice of you to turn up, brother dear. I'm sure I won't have to regale John or Arthur with the stories of those _weeks_ you spent trying to find where we hid ourselves. I recall the methods you took were quite _amusing_."

A put upon sigh was all he was given in response, as was typical of his elder brother. Mycroft's eyes were then drawn to John, who had finally stopped gaping at the throne room and moved to ensure Arthur was all right. The young King ("_Arthur 'King'? Christ. Are all parents cruel these days? Sherlock, Mycroft, Hamish, Arthur Kin-" "Yes, thank you for your input, John._") was now filling John's abandoned role in facial expressions.

He could already feel his brain cells atrophying in hordes.

"Sherlock, I _really_ don't understand."

Mycroft's whisper of "T-shirts" and disgustingly reptilian attempt at a smile was nearly enough to prompt him to travel back to their reality, but that would leave _John_ alone with _them_. Not Good is too mild of an expression.

"You're not the only one, my friend." Arthur said, still pivoting in an apparent attempt to ascertain his precise position in the room, or else still struggling to understand where he was in the first place. ("_Balance of probability…_") would dictate the latter, but the tilt of Arthur's head suggested that he may understand a great deal more than what may be expected from him. Interesting.

"No, but- one moment we were in that house, the next we're here, in a _throne_ room with _hanging tapestries_ and… You two are dressed in Stone Age-era armour, but Mycroft and I are still in our own clothes? What the _hell_ is going on here?"

Predictable as always, Mycroft's reply was preceded by a patronising chuckle.

"I'm afraid as Sherlock's siblings, we had a tendency to encourage his flights of fancy as a child. I was more proficient in terms of the pirates, something I quickly gave up mind you, but Merlin delighted in keeping Sherlock entertained with sword fights and armour and adventures-"

Mycroft was interrupted by all three of his audience, varying from Sherlock's outraged "_Mycroft!_" to Arthur's disbelieving "_Mer_lin, _fighting_ with a_sword_?" but it was John's quiet question of "Siblings?" that drew all eyes.

John rocked back on his heels, fists tightening, before leaning his torso forward slightly and taking a few restrained steps forward. He was alternating his incredulous gaze between Mycroft and him, as if expecting them to counter his question with denial.

With no immediate response offered, the brunt of John's expression was direct at him, with all of its confusion and disbelief and _hurt_.

(How does one explain, "Oh, yes, I have another sibling I never told you about" with "magic does, in fact, exist" and the fact that those two things are so intertwined that the three of them don't understand it themselves, let alone attempt to explain it? Even to one's… _significant other_?)

For lack of a better term, Sherlock quails.

Merlin being Merlin, clumsy footsteps, panting and a resounding bang of the wooden doors hitting the walls accompanied his entrance to the gathering.

"S-sorry! … Sorry! Kilgarrah and I- were in the middle of a game of riddles… and you _know_ how cryptic he likes to get. So I didn't notice until he mentioned the ring glowing… And I thought _that_ was another clue. Anyway, I'm sure you've noticed I've redecor- _Oh_."

Merlin had always managed to possess both the worst yet luckiest sense of timing. ("_You understand, brother mine, that after today we must ensure that you will be, for all intents and purposes, dead to this world? You cannot risk yourself in such a manner again. They will have to be fed some story that makes me out as a villain and a truly barbaric-" "Not that you aren't one, truly." Their voices had joined as one, a rare event those days where it was he and Merlin that were so attuned, "__**Shut up, Sherlock.**_") While not applicable to Merlin himself in that moment, Sherlock was grateful he was the benefactor of this particular mishap. John's attention seemed to have shifted to trying to discern the (obvious) family resemblances. If even Arthur had been able to connect the similar zygomatic arches, hair, lithe build and eyes (Mycroft being the genetic outcast), as a doctor John couldn't miss the striking resemblance that they shared.

"_Merlin._"

Oh, for god's sake. This was going to be like one of those ridiculous scenes from the movies John's girlfriends used to inflict on John in years past (and therefore any member of the public following John's path). He had no desire to see his _younger_ brother and his _brother's John_ reunite.

Where there were hordes, there were now entire clusters of his brain matter vying to off themselves.

At least he was in a prime position to watch Mycroft's face when the two kissed.


End file.
